Awakenings, An Aoshi and Misao Story
by Gemini1
Summary: Misao decides to leave the Aoiya to discover if Aoshi is what she really wants. COMPLETE!
1. Part 1

Awakenings  
An Aoshi and Misao Story

* * *

  
Part 1

It was July, 1881 and Kyoto was in the grips of a horrible heat wave. It wasn't as simple as a rise in the temperature. The people of the flower city would have been grateful for hot, dry days. Rather, it was a vicious, humid heat that sapped the life from every one and left its victims lethargic and empty. Dusky gray clouds would hang low in the sky and promise rain and then disappear, mocking the people who had dared to hope. Despite the heat, life continued, albeit at a slower pace and it was on a dull, dreary July morning when she left Kyoto and all its bitter memories behind.   
  
Aoshi was the first to realize she was gone. Perhaps, if she had known that, it would have lightened her heart a bit. He gathered the others in a search that grew more frantic as the day progressed. By the time night fell with an almost audible thud, he was beside himself with worry. Of course, to the casual observer, an Aoshi beside himself with worry merely looked slightly concerned. But someone more intimately acquainted with the okashira would have noticed the tension in his body, the turmoil that wailed and thrashed like a violent storm in his ice blue eyes.   
  
He searched her room over and over again, as though some clue might appear if he just looked hard enough. All he found, however, was more and more evidence that, despite all of his training in the art of observation, he had been surprisingly blind when it came to Misao. Several beautiful kimonos were hung neatly on their stand, reminding him that she was a lady, when necessary. An elegant scarlet silk obi concealed a handful of razor sharp kunai and a thin, frail umbrella was the host of a concealed dagger. A lady sometimes, but always a ninja. He couldn't help a slightly sardonic smile at the thought.   
  
A sudden gust of wind blew through the open window, ruffling the pages of books left stacked on the floor. His eyes observed writing that decorated the margins and empty spaces of the volume. Closer observation revealed ideas, criticisms and elaboration in Misao's loopy scrawl. Curiosity sat him down and made him pick up the first book on the stack. He would have expected a romance or some silly children's story, but the title of the tome elicited from him a near audible gasp of surprise. Sun Tzu's Art of War'. Quickly, he scanned the other books in the pile.   
  
Heike monogatari, Hagakure, A Book of Five Rings, the only book that could be classified as even moderately silly was The Tale of Genji. She had been reading books that he himself had studied as a young man being groomed for leadership. He flipped the pages, reading her comments on the texts. The more he read, the more he felt like he had never really known her at all. The laughing image of a child that had always dominated his perception of her began to change on that oppressive July evening and the woman that replaced her was a complete stranger to him.   
  
July fell into August and the clouds finally delivered their promise, drenching the city with unending torrents of rain. At the Aoi-ya, the search for Misao continued, but the web was growing larger as more distant members of the oniwabanshuu were brought in. Reports flooded in from as far south as Kumamoto and as far north as Sapparo. Occasionally, there would be a sighting, but for the most part, she remained hidden. As for Aoshi, he had departed weeks earlier to conduct his own search. Ironically, he was unknowingly retracing her own steps from years earlier, when she had gone the width and breadth of Japan looking for even a flicker of his trench coat in the wind.   
  
He stopped first in Osaka and then traveled to Tokyo in the hopes that she had gone to see friends there. But no one at the Kamiya dojo had seen her and he left Tokyo dejected and depressed. It seemed as though she had simply vanished off the face of the earth. His dogged search continued, on and off for months. It was sheer luck that he happened to be in Kyoto on the cold December morning when they received a letter from Misao. It was short and almost terse, written in the loopy scrawl that he had long ago committed to memory. I'm fine. I left because I wanted to, she began, not elaborating on the reasons. The note was finished with a request, please, do not look for me and try to bring me home. I'll be back when I'm ready. Aoshi crumpled the note in his hand, wondering when exactly that would be.   


* * *

  
Misao, for her part, was not interested in being found. She was hurt and angry and bitter. It had taken a lot to bring her down, but eventually, they had done it. Okina attempting to arrange her marriage to some idiot from Osaka had been the final straw. She knew deep down, that the old man's blundering attempt at an engagement had been because he was looking out for her well being. But Aoshi approving the match had wrenched her heart from her chest. She could practically see it lying on the ground, smashed and ruined. For years she had given and given and given in the hopes that someday she might get something back. She had tried every trick in the book to get him to notice her and had failed every time. She was twenty years old and had spent most of those years chasing after Aoshi's coattails. And it seemed as though he had spent most of that time avoiding her. So, she left. There was nothing for her in Kyoto except stagnation. If she was forced to marry some goon who would stick her in a kimono and keep her pregnant most of the time she knew she would rot away. And then all that would be left of Misao was an empty shell, like Aoshi.   
  
Her first impulse had been to flee to Tokyo and stay with Kaoru and Kenshin. But, early on she had vetoed that idea. Her friends, though good natured and concerned for her welfare would try and send her back, or at the very least, alert the oniwabanshuu in Kyoto. If Misao wanted to be free, she would have to cut all ties. And she did. It was lonely at first, but she was truly amazed by how fast she got used to it. Being alone wasn't bad, actually, the silence allowed her to focus entirely on her own screwed up psyche.   
  
No wonder Kenshin is so mellow! She mused to herself as she fanned the flames of her campfire. A few months of intense introspection had allowed her to work through a lot of her issues. But if I start oro-ing and dono-ing, then I'm going back to Kyoto. She said out loud to no one in particular. And then she laughed loudly at the image of herself as the hapless rurouni. She was still chuckling when she began grilling the fish she had caught for dinner.   
  
She wandered for three years, up and down the country, trying anything that interested her. She did the usual and boring jobs, working as a waitress, a maid and a seamstress whenever she needed to make some money. Working at inns and private homes also gave her a place to stay during the winter. She became quite good at cooking, embroidering and disarming amorous suitors. More than once she lost a job for physically maiming men who got a little too friendly with her. After her last escape with her dignity intact but bruised, she decided that perhaps she could try other things. Being Misao, she was not afraid of taking up unusual work.   
  
She was a performer in a circus where her skill with kunai wowed the audience but caused more than one target' to wet themselves. She tried desperately to forget her disastrous turn in a kabuki theatre in Nagasaki, where she ran into men who were prettier than Kamatari. The theatre owner had thought Misao was a man, albeit a bishounen, owing to her bound chest and masculine attire. And, being desperate for money, she had played the part well until an extremely embarrassing incident with a group of Onnagata at a local hot springs. Those emotional scars would last for years. Less embarrassing were her other jobs. Kaoru would have been extremely envious of Misao's job selling chocolates and other Western confections in Yokohama but nobody would envy the thankless work of peddling medicines around Yamagata.   
  
She would have been completely content to continue bouncing around Japan if she had not met Akira. Akira changed everything.   
  
Two and a half years into her journey, Misao found herself bored with her wandering. She had seen and done a lot, more than she ever could have if she had stayed in Kyoto. She had proved herself and others wrong. She was no longer the silly, genki girl that had followed Aoshi around like a love sick puppy, throwing temper tantrums and prone to periods of prolonged hyperactivity. She had been sheltered by the oniwabanshuu and she had never really grown up or been responsible for anything. Two years on the road had matured her and forced her to face her shortcomings in order to survive. She had, and now she was at peace with those parts of herself, but there was something else that nagged at her, something that wouldn't let go.   
  
She was calmer, yes. She thought before she spoke, sure. She no longer used her kunai to settle arguments, but when it came to Aoshi, to love and men in general, she was still as clueless as she was as a child. Her brief entanglements with amorous employers and obnoxious patrons aside, Misao felt like she didn't understand men. She had vowed, when she left Kyoto a couple of years earlier, that she would not return until she felt ready. But she didn't feel like she was. She was chewing on that particular problem when she ran headlong into someone, knocking them both to the ground. Some things hadn't changed. She was still a complete klutz.   
  
Ninja that she was, Misao rebounded quickly and was on her feet before her victim had even been able to catch his breath. He lay on the ground, with a slightly stunned look on his face, the packages he had been carrying sprinkled around his prone body.   
  
Sorry! I'm so sorry! Are you okay? Misao flew into action, somehow managing to pick up all his packages and heft him to his feet. The young man brushed the dirt off his clothing, trying desperately to interrupt Misao's litany of apologies. It's all right! He managed to exclaim, reaching out and grabbing her arm to get her attention. When her startled blue gaze was securely locked onto him, he continued. Really, I'm okay. You just knocked the wind out of me for a second, that's all. He gathered his packages out of her arms and gave her a short bow. Thank you for helping me. Have a nice day, sir.   
  
Misao saw red. She exploded, throwing down the hood that covered her face. The long cloak she wore shielded her from the cold January wind but also hid any evidence that she was, in fact, a woman.   
  
The young man turned a healthy shade of crimson and stuttered an apology. I'm sorryyou looked like a guy That made things worse.   
  
Half an hour and several daikichi-imo later, Misao forgave the young man. Licking the cinnamon from her fingers, she cast a speculative glance at her benefactor. Despite his rather severe appearance, he was handsome with kind, warm brown eyes. Slightly overlong inky black bangs were constant victims of the irritated sweep of his hand, which tried valiantly to keep the hair out of his face. Constant failure didn't stop him from trying and while she watched, he tied his hair back with a leather string. Suddenly, he seemed to realize that she was staring. He asked, blushing slightly under her intent stare.   
  
She blinked and smiled sheepishly. Sorry. I was just wondering what I should call you.   
  
He blinked back, surprised at her forwardness. Call me?   
  
She smiled. My name is Makimachi Misao. She bowed and then looked at him expectantly.   
  
Harada Akira. He stuttered, running his hand through his hair yet again in his nervousness.   
  
Thank you for the daikichi-imo, Harada-san. Misao said, and I really am sorry for knocking you down.   
  
He nodded and gathered up his packages, preparing to leave. Your welcome. Have a nice day, Makimachi-san. He bowed and rushed away.   
  
She sighed and pulled her hood back over her head, and was reaching down to grab her bag when a voice called out to her.   
  
She turned and saw Akira standing hesitantly a few feet away.   
  
  
  
It occurred to me that you're a wanderer, he began, shifting from foot to foot. If you don't have a place to stay, you're welcome to come home with me. My family owns an inn.   
  
That's so nice of you! Misao exclaimed, a moment before her face fell. Oh, but Harada-sanI don't have any money.   
  
That's okay. If you're willing to do a little work   
  
She said, rushing up to him. I have lots of experience working in inns! She grabbed a couple of his packages and gave him a blinding smile. Lead the way!   
  
End Part I   
  


* * *

A tiny glossary & explanations:   
  
1. Kunai-Misao's favorite smiting weapon   
2. Heike monogatari, Hagakure, A Book of Five Rings, The Art of War, Tale of Genji-Classics of Japanese literature, The Tale of Genji is a Jerry Springer-esqe twisted love story, the others are famous books of strategies, war and fighting techniques. Good smite reading. (I like the word smite today)   
3. Kumamoto, capital city of Kumamoto prefecture, near Nagoya in South Japan, Sapporo is the capital city of Hokkaido prefecture in the very North of Japan. (Sapparo is also a very good beer)   
4. Misao's disastrous experience with Kabuki-men called Onnagata played women in Kabuki theatre. Think Kamatari. Women didn't act, therefore Misao would have been promptly fired once it was discovered she wasn't a man!   
5. Yokohama is a port city, remember the train episode? Kaoru was dying to try chocolate! Western confections and fashions began to seep into Japan during the Meiji era, especially in cities with constant contact with the West. But you knew that! ;)   
6. Daikichi-imo-very nummy confection of kneaded sweet potatoes and cinnamon. Yummy, yummy!   
7. Gah, these explanations are longer than the story! Heh heh. 

Part 2 


	2. Part 2

Awakenings  
An Aoshi and Misao Story

* * *

Part 2

Akira marked his place in the text with a finger and looked up to watch Misao. He had been watching her a lot since she had taken a job at his family's inn. He found her mysterious and fascinating. And beautiful, although he wouldn't admit that to anyone. Today, his mother had Misao dusting. He watched as she flitted from one end of the big common room to the other, running a rag over tables and pictures and anything else that looked like it needed dusting. She seemed absorbed in the task, humming a tune under her breath as she worked.   
  
He had just worked up the courage to speak to her when his mother bustled into the room. "Akira! You'll go blind if you keep straining your eyes reading those silly books! Why don't you go help your brother's new wife with the laundry?" Akira shut the book and rose to comply, wishing fervently that his mother had decided to help Yuuki instead.   
  
"I can help her, if you'd like, Harada-san." Misao said, taking a swipe at a bit of dust on a tabletop.   
  
"That's quite all right, Misao-chan." His mother said stiffly. "Yuuki needs help carrying the heavy things and I think Akira needs to get a little exercise." She softened her explanation with a smile as she pushed her blushing son out of the room.   
  
Misao shrugged and continued dusting. Akira's mother was a nice woman, but when it came to her youngest son, she seemed to become a different person. She was always nagging and correcting her son, nothing he ever did seemed to please her. Misao wondered why. She made a mental note to ask Yuuki next time she saw her.   


* * *

  
Aoshi silently pushed the half-filled bowl of rice away and rose from the table. Okon resisted the urge to tell him to sit and eat, instead she silently cleared his dishes away. Though the dining room had the air of a tomb, the kitchen was lively. Omasu, Shiro and Kuro were gossiping as they cooked and cleaned.   
  
Omasu looked at Aoshi's barely eaten meal and raised and eyebrow at her friend. "He's going to waste away if he doesn't start eating." Okon said with a sigh as she dumped the remnants into the garbage.   
  
"You don't have to tell me that!" Omasu exclaimed, angrily sloshing the soapy dishwater. "He's lost so much weighthe looks like a skeleton! If only Misao was here"   
  
"She'd make him eat!" Shiro said as he took the wet, clean dishes from Omasu, dried them and handed them to Kuro.   
  
"She'd stuff his face!" Kuro laughed over the clinking of the dishes as he put them away.   
  
"Oh, do you remember the time she made mud pies and tried to make us eat them?" Okon smiled at the memory.   
  
"She cried so hard when we refused and then Aoshi ate one to pacify her! Do you remember the look on his face?!" Omasu dissolved into laughter, splashing water onto the floor. The others were laughing as well, each caught up in the memories of happier times.   
  
"It was the only way she would stop crying." The voice that spoke stopped their laughter dead. Aoshi stood in the kitchen doorway, his face impassive as he spoke.   
  
The group in the kitchen stared at him, wide eyed, unsure of what he was going to do or say.   
  
"Okon?" He directed his steely gaze in her direction.   
  
"Hhai, Aoshi-sama?" She stuttered, her face growing red.   
  
"I won't be needing my tea tomorrow." He said before turning and walking away.   
  
The kitchen was silent as each member of the oniwabanshuu tried to get their hearts to beat normally again.   


* * *

  
Why is Harada-san so mean to Akira-san?" Yuuki looked up from the hakama she was repairing to give Misao a puzzled look. "I don't really know, Misao-chan. She was like that when I came here a few months ago. Hajime says she's just disappointed in him. Could you hand me the scissors?"   
  
Misao handed them to her and asked another question. "But what did he do that made her disappointed?"   
  
Yuuki neatly snipped the thread and smoothed the cloth. "There. You can barely tell it's been mended." She said with a satisfied smile. As she handed Misao back the scissors she tried to answer the question. "WellI'm not sure if this is true, but I think that he refused to marry someone." Yukki shrugged. "I don't know the story, that's just what I've been able to put together. I don't like to ask Hajime because it makes him angry."   
  
Misao nodded. "Well, I was just curious. Thanks, Yuuki-san. Now, I'd better go, there's a large group coming in for a wedding and Harada-san needs help in the kitchen." She waved and rushed off in the direction of the kitchen, her curiosity more aroused than ever.   


* * *

  
The wedding party was large and demanding and in the whirl of days that followed, Misao didn't have time to wonder. There were meals to fix, rooms to clean, laundry to dothe work never seemed to end. Everyone in the Harada family pitched in to help the staff and Misao often found herself working side by side with Akira. Though he was quiet most of the time, he was good company. He seemed interested in whatever Misao said and he surprised her more than once by making jokes that made her laugh out loud. By the fifth day of hard work, she felt rather close to him. Close enough to satisfy her curiosity.   
  
"Akira-san?" She asked casually as she scrubbed sheets in an oversized wash basin.   
  
"Hmmm?" He was involved in the same task she was, the sheer volume of laundry being rather overwhelming.   
  
"Why is your mother so cross with you?" The words popped out, her intention of padding them first completely ignored by her mouth.   
  
He stopped scrubbing.   
  
"I'm sorryI was being nosy" Misao silently berated herself while resisting the urge to bang her head against the wooden tub.   
  
"It's okay, Misao-san." He answered quietly.   
  
They scrubbed in silence for a few moments before he spoke again.   
  
"I was supposed to get married last spring, but I didn't." He said.   
  
"You don't have to tell" Misao began but was cut off.   
  
"I don't mind. My mother engaged me to a young woman from a nearby village but I refused to marry her." He shook his head and laughed a little. "I had this crazy notion that I would only marry someone I lovedsomeone who wouldn't bore me out of my skull every time she opened her mouth. Naturally, my mother was not pleased. More than that, she didn't understand why I wanted to wait for someone to come along. Why I would not settle for anything less."   
  
Misao bowed her head, hiding the tears that threatened to fall. "I understand." She whispered.   
  
Misao? Are you okay? Akira was staring.   
  
She turned to him and smiled. It's nothing. Honest.   
  
He abandoned his laundry and, wiping his hands dry on his hakama, he scooted next to her.   
  
you shouldn't cry. You're much prettier when you smile. He brushed the tears off of her face, his hands lingering on her cheeks.   
  
Her eyes widened and her heart began to beat faster. Akira, please She pushed his hands off of her face and backed away slightly.   
  
He blushed bright red. gomen Misao. I didn't mean anything.   
  
Akira! Hajime needs you! Yuuki called from the kitchen. Hastily, he jumped up and ran towards the kitchen and his brother, leaving Misao sitting with a slightly stunned expression on her face.   


* * *

  
Aoshi flipped another page in Misao's Art of War running his finger over her scrawl in the margins. He had pored over every book she left behind, indeed, he had long ago memorized every question, observation and quip that littered her books. He kept them stacked in his room, and it wasn't unusual for him to carry one with him wherever he went as a sort of talisman. His favorite was Sun Tzu's classic text on warfare, Misao having written the most in that one book.   
  
He sighed and closed the book with a snap. He was very tired, sleep had long ago become a luxury he couldn't afford. His dreams were most often full of visions of Misao, a laughing little girl, a pouting teenager, and, more frequently, an alluring woman. God, I'm going insane. He rubbed his face, wishing he could just wipe away his problems.   
  
Maybe some tea would help.   
  
Aoshi was clearly not in his best form. Had he been, the man standing in his doorway would not have startled him. He turned quickly, his hand reaching for his kodachi automatically. The man was slight with red hair and a cross scar on his cheek, and he was holding a steaming cup of tea. His eyes narrowed and his mouth set into a frown.   
  
Kenshin smiled slightly, tilting his head in acknowledgement. He had long ago abandoned trying to convince Aoshi to quit calling him that. Kaoru and I were in Kyoto and we decided to visit.   
  
Did you bring your entire household? Aoshi asked, sounding completely irritated by the idea.   
  
No. Yahiko is minding the dojo. The others have long ago gone their own ways.   
  
The former rurouni settled near Aoshi and handed him the cup of tea. They're worried about you. He said, fixing the younger man with an intent purple gaze.   
  
Battousai, this is none of your business. Aoshi said coldly as he set the cup onto the floor.   
  
Perhaps not, Kenshin said placidly, but I know Misao-dono would not like you killing yourself.   
  
Aoshi slammed his hand down on the floor, staring at Kenshin with enraged blue eyes. You know nothing! He growled.   
  
The red head remained unruffled. She said she was coming home, Aoshi. I've never known Misao-dono to not keep a promise.   
  
Aoshi did not reply.   
  
She would be most upset if she came home and you were ill, or worse, dead. Kenshin folded his hands in his lap placidly.   
  
Aoshi looked up at him, ill-contained emotions flashing in his eyes. I never knew how much shehow much she loved me. He choked on the word love'.   
  
Kenshin raised an eyebrow. Women often are very good at keeping secrets. However in your case, I don't think that Misao-dono exactly concealed her feelings towards you.   
  
Aoshi choked back a harsh bark of laughter. No, no she didn't.   
  
She'll come back when she's ready, Aoshi. The best thing you can do for her is to also be ready. Whatever is plaguing you, you need to face it. The rurouni's eyes darkened slightly and then cleared.   
  
The door slid open, revealing Kaoru and a small red haired child, one hand fisted in the cotton of her kimono, the thumb of the other in his mouth. His eyes lit up when he saw Kenshin and he released Kaoru and tottered excitedly towards his father. He almost made it, but he was saved from hitting the floor by Kenshin, who caught him deftly. The boy laughed and hugged his father tight.   
  
I'm sorry to interrupt, Kaoru said, smiling at the tableau her husband and son made, But Okina sent me to tell you both that dinner is ready. Kenshin nodded and rose from his position on the floor, still holding his son.   
  
Kaoru turned her smile to Aoshi. Aoshi-san? I was hoping you would join us tonight, even though Okon said you wouldn't   
  
Aa. I will join you. The okashira rose and bowed at Kaoru. She smiled brightly.   
  
Kenshin carefully untangled his son's hands from his hair and suppressed a smile. Perhaps Aoshi would listen to reason after all.   
  
End of Part 2

Part 3


	3. Part 3

Awakenings  
An Aoshi and Misao Story

* * *

Part 3

Misao sprawled gratefully onto her futon, almost giddy at the thought that she would be allowed to sleep in the next morning. The wedding party had departed and Harada-san had rewarded her hard working staff with a day off. Exhausted though she was, Misao had already planned out her day. Lunch at a small restaurant in town, maybe a little shopping and she planned to end her day watching the sun set by the river with a picnic dinner. Perfect. She fell asleep with a smile.   
  
Early the next afternoon, a freshly scrubbed Misao made her way to the village, whistling a nameless tune and swinging her purse. The day seemed to rejoice with her, the sun shone bright and birds nestled in the trees echoed her song.   
  
The trip to the village was a short one and she soon found herself seated at the town's only restaurant in front of a steaming cup of tea. "Green tea," she mused, "it had to be green tea." Green tea and the musty smell of a temple moldering around them; green tea and the spicy scent of incense; green tea and the view of his back. For Misao, green tea would always remind her of Aoshi. Tears pricked her eyes and she hailed the waitress. "Could I have water, instead?" The girl was puzzled, but complied, sweeping the offensive tea out of Misao's sight.   
  
"It's not great, but I never thought their green tea was that bad, either." Akira plopped down across from her and offered her a handkerchief.   
  
"Akira-san? What are you doing here?" Misao asked, completely surprised. She ignored the clean white cloth in his outstretched hand and instead swiped at her tears with the back of her hand.   
  
"I always come here on Fridays." He replied, stuffing his handkerchief back into his sleeve. As if to verify that statement, the waitress reappeared with Misao's water. "Ah, Harada-san. The usual?"   
  
He nodded. The waitress turned to Misao and took her order and then bustled off.   
  
She sniffled and wiped at the remaining tears, a watery smile on her face. "I don't like green tea." She said struggling to be cheerful.   
  
Akira cradled his face in his hands and looked at her with dark, curious eyes. "Misao-santhis may seem presumptuous of mebut you know so much about me and my family, and yet, I don't know anything about you, save your name."   
  
Misao fiddled with her water glass, her eyes tracking a bead of water as it slid down the glass and onto the table. Very carefully, she spoke. "What do you want to know?"   
  
"Well, we can start with basics. Where are you from?"   
  
She took a sip of water. "Kyoto."   
  
"Okay. How old are you?"   
  
She grinned and looked up at him. "It's rude to ask a lady her age. Next question."   
  
He smiled back. "I apologize. What about your family?"   
  
Misao's smile vanished. "I have no family." She said, quietly. She wasn't lying. She was the last of the Makimachi family. Both her mother's family and her father's were gone, no more to her than austere stone markers to be carefully tended to every summer during the Bon festival.   
  
"I'm sorry." This time, Akira's apology was soft and sincere. His hands itched to hold hers, but he was afraid of repeating the awkward incident from a few days earlier.   
  
She was spared a response by the waitress, who thumped their food down in front of them. For the next several minutes, they busied themselves with their food, Misao slurping her noodles noisily out of habit.   
  
Akira fiddled with his chopsticks, finally putting them down and moving to play with a thread on his sleeve. "Misao-san? I don't suppose that buying you sweets would work twice, would it?"   
  
She slurped her last noodle and gave him a slight smile. It was impossible to be mad at him for too long, not when he was looking at her with those big puppy dog eyes. "Wellit might work."   


* * *

  
Aoshi lit the coil of sandalwood incense, pausing to take a deep breath of the calming scent. The Himuras' son had only looked innocent. The boy was a terror. They indulged him too much, especially the Battousai. He practically let the boy get away with murder. A corner of Aoshi's mouth curled into a smile. How appropriate. Hmph.   
  
He settled into his usual position and began mulling over what Kenshin had told him. Somehow, he had to let go of his guilt and fears. He still didn't feel very comfortable with the idea of Misao as anything more than someone he once promised to take care of, a hyperactive little child that would have given Himura Kenji a run for his money.   
  
"Aoshi-sammmmaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!" A six-year-old Misao jumped on him as he tried to meditate. He barely managed to catch her and himself before they toppled over.   
  
"Misao?" That's all he was able to get out before she interrupted him with a stream of words.   
  
"Aoshi-sama, Jiya and Shikiju were teasing me again! I'm not a monkey, ne? Ne? Tell them I'm not!!!"   
  
He struggled not to laugh and managed to give her a serious look. "I'll speak to them later, okay?" She nodded vehemently and gave him a kiss on the cheek.   
  
"Arigato Aoshi-sama!" And she was gone before he could reply, the last glimpse he had of her was the tip of her braid whipping around the corner.   
  
"Aoshi-sama?" She was nineteen now and no longer prone to jumping on him during a conversation.   
  
He watched her face as he told her what he had decided, watched it as it paled.   
  
"Misao, I have heard what Okina has suggested and I agree with him. This young man from Osaka is a good match. I have given Okina my permission to begin marriage arrangements."   
  
She was silent for a long while, her face almost as stoic as his was wont. And then finally, she spoke. "How could you, Aoshi-sama? How could you?" The look of total betrayal on her face hurt him. He could actually feel his heart twisting inside his chest. Before he could reply, she was gone, the last glimpse he had of her was the tip of her braid whipping around the corner.   
  
He opened his eyes and looked into a dark corner of the temple. It was difficult to reconcile those two Misaos. But her essence was the same. The same wild, free spirit burned in those eyes. "Misao." He whispered her name aloud and bowed his head, almost as if he was praying to her. And perhaps he was. "MisaoI'm sorry."   
  


* * *

  
The sun took its time setting, it seemed content to burnish the clouds gold and hang lazily in the dusky blue sky. Misao watched it with her arms wrapped around her knees, settled comfortably on the banks of the river. Akira sat just as silently by her side, respecting her wish to remain silent. The more time he spent with her, the easier it was to read her moods. She was no longer as guarded around him as she used to be.   
  
"You know, when I was little, I used to think the sun took so long to set because it liked looking at itself in the water too much." She laughed a little into her up drawn knees. Beside her, Akira chuckled and glanced sidelong at her profile, drinking it in.   
  
"You were probably a terror as a child." He remarked, his hands playing in the grass.   
  
"How did you know?" They both laughed, the sound of their laughter blending and fading together into the slowly darkening night sky.   
  
He actually talks to me and laughs at my jokes! Misao marveled, stealing a look at Akira. He was looking at his hands in the grass and blushing slightly. It was strangely refreshing to be able to read his emotions. At dinner, she had told him several of her old jokes and he had laughed until he nearly couldn't breathe. Those same jokes hadn't even gotten as much as an eye twitch from Aoshi.   
  
I could be happy with someone like Akira. The thought hit her hard and she nearly had to catch her breath. The mere idea would have been blasphemous not so long ago. But lately, she had been wondering, who had she been in love with? Was it Shinomori Aoshi, the living, breathing man? Or was she in love with a Shinomori Aoshi of her own creation, a man she had slowly raised to near God-like status over the years of his absence. How much of the man she had loved so much actually existed? Did he exist at all?   
  
She looked at Akira again and this time, caught his eye. He smiled sweetly at her and hesitantly extended his hand, enveloping hers. And she let him.   
  
End Part 3

Part 4 


	4. Part 4

Awakenings  
An Aoshi and Misao Story  


* * *

Part 4   
  
Aoshi couldn't sleep. He had lain in bed for hours and all he had to show for it was a brief, restless slumber that had ended in a nightmare. He sighed and turned onto his side, icy blue eyes fixed on the shadowy gloom that existed just beyond his futon. The dream was the same one he had every night. Misao had the annoying tendency to plague him both day and night. In his dream, she had returned, only with a husband and child. And she had been completely content in her life. Content in her life without him. He turned onto his back again, staring up at the ceiling. Not a moment went by when he wasn't thinking about her and his mind didn't seem to care if it was 2 o'clock in the afternoon or morning. Where was she? Was she safe? Was she happy? Was she thinking of him?   


* * *

  
Misao threw back the covers and sat up, completely frustrated. She couldn't sleep. "Damn you, Aoshi! Can't you let me be happy?!" She moaned at the phantom that haunted her dreams. Her times with Akira had been marvelous. It was everything that she had ever wanted. But every time she began to feel content and happy, thoughts, unbidden, would assail her. For brief flashes, the hand that held hers was Aoshi's, the voice that laughed was Aoshi's and that smile that flashed at her was Aoshi's. Worst of all, when Akira had kissed her softly at the end of one evening, it was Aoshi's face she saw in front of hers, not Akira's.   
  
She cursed softly, her hands kneading her pristine white linen. She was two years and hundreds of miles away from Kyoto, and yet she couldn't escape him. Perhaps she didn't want to. There was the possibility of a happy future with Akira, of love and marriage and children. But not contentment. Because every time he touched her, more than a small part of her wished it were Aoshi.   
  
She sighed and flopped back down onto her futon, pulling her slightly wrinkled covers back over her. Her mind drifted and her last conscious thought before she fell asleep was "I wonder if he's thinking of me?"   


* * *

  
Misao spent her days hovering between happiness and guilt. Happiness because she was having a wonderful time with Akira and guilt because she felt like she was cheating on Aoshi. Akira brought her flowers and held her hand, he always thought she looked beautiful, even when she was sweaty and tired from doing laundry out in the hot sun and her hair was a mess. And the way he looked at herit was enough to take her breath away.   
  
He was everything she ever wanted. Sweet and kind, considerate, intelligent and funny, she would be insane not to love him. This was the mantra she repeated every night before she went to bed, hoping desperately that she would wake up the next morning and be completely in love with him. But she never was.   
  
Misao was frustrated and angry. "Why," she wondered as she slapped a green gi against the wash tub's side, "can't I love someone who is so wonderful? Why am I so determined to hurt myself? Because Aoshi has never made you happy, and it's highly unlikely he ever willand you have happiness right in front of you" She scrubbed the gi hard, her face set in a frown, her mind miles away from her job.   
  
Akira watched her silently as she angrily scrubbed the same gi over and over again. If she kept it up, there wouldn't be anything left of his brother's favorite green gi. She wasn't happy, he could tell that easily. Even when she laughed and hugged him, even when she assured him that everything was all right, he could tell she was lying. Her smile was always a little forced, her assurances hollow. He sighed and leaned against the doorframe. Idly, he wondered who she smiled for, what man was lucky enough to posses her heart. Because, even though it hurt him terribly, he knew it wasn't him.   
  
"Akira, there you are!" Yuuki caught her brother-in-law's attention, her annoyed expression clear. "I've been looking for you everywhere! Your mother wants to see you, right now!" She happened to glance outside as she was scolding him and saw the reason for his presence in the doorway. Her expression softened. "Go on now." She said, her voice less irritated. She gave him a gentle push in the direction of the house's interior. With a sigh, he went, taking a final glance at Misao before he disappeared down the hallway. Yuuki smiled. She loved romances; it reminded her of her younger days when Hajime had courted her with sweet words and kisses. Her smile slipped slightly. Funny how marriage changed a man. Sighing loudly, she went back into the house to finish her chores.   
  
Akira slipped open the door to his mother's room and bowed respectfully to her before taking a seat. "You wanted to see me, mother?"   
  
"Akira, I'm not going to waste words with you. I've noticed your attentions to that servant girl, Misao, and I want to know, what are your intentions?" She gave him a severe and expectant look, her eyes narrowed slightly as she waited for his answer.   
  
"I don't know, mother." He replied quietly, looking down at his hands.   
  
"You don't know or you don't want to tell me?" She raised an eyebrow at her youngest son.   
  
"I honestly don't know. I do havefeelings for her, but I'm not so sure she returns them."   
  
His mother seemed to sit up straighter, her annoyed expression intensified. "And why is that? Why is MY son not good enough for her? You are a handsome boy from a good family Akira, I'm not sure I want you to have relations with such a stupid girl."   
  
He smiled slightly. That was the closest to a compliment his mother would ever come.   
  
"Stop smirking, boy. Now I want you to walk out of this room and talk to her. I think I know what your intentions are, but you need to find out hers."   
  
He looked up sharply, a slight look of fear in his eyes. "MotherI can't do that"   
  
His mother wouldn't take no for an answer. "Listen to me, Akira. Love is not patient. It can only wait for so long. You've been dancing around this for months, and I think it's high time you did something about it." She paused and gave him a dark look. "Besides, if you don't do it, I will."   
  
He got to his feet quickly, fear propelling him towards the door. The mere thought of his mother approaching Misao was enough to make him do it. "I'll go do it right now." He said nervously.   
  
She smiled and nodded. "That's a good boy. If that girl has any sense, she'll feel for you what you do for her."   
  
"Thank you." He murmured and ducked out the door.   
  
Misao hung the last kimono up to dry and wiped the sweat off her brow. She hated doing laundry. Her fingers were all pruny and she was a sweaty mess. She swiped stray strands of hair out of her face and headed towards the bathhouse, dreaming of a long bath.   
  
"Misao-san?" Akira's nervous voice stopped her in her tracks. She turned and smiled at him.   
  
"Hai, Akira-san?" Her smile slipped when she saw his face. He was bright red and visibly nervous, fidgeting with his sleeves as he stood in front of her. "Are you okay?"   
  
"Misao-sanI uhthat is" He stuttered, stumbling over his words. He took a deep breath and spoke, his words coming out in a rush. "Misao-san, I love you"   
  
"Akira-san, stop. Please." Misao held up her hand and shook her head. "Don't tell me that."   
  
He stared at her crestfallen face, feeling strangely numb. "Why not? It's the truth. I love you. Do youlove me?"   
  
Her lower lip wobbled and tears welled up in her eyes. "II don't know"   
  
He took her face between his hands and leaned down, kissing her with the force of his passion.   
  
For a moment, she let him, but then she pulled away. "Akira-sanI can't"   
  
His hands dropped to his sides, his fists clenching. "What's his name?" He asked quietly.   
  
Misao started. "What? Whose name?" She asked, knowing full well what he meant.   
  
"The man you really love." He replied.   
  
She hung her head, inky black bangs obscuring her eyes. "I don't know if I love him anymore." She replied sadly.   
  
Akira looked up hopefully. "Then maybe" he began, but was silenced when Misao placed her hand gently on his mouth.   
  
"If I was a smart girl, Akira-san, I would accept everything you offer. But I'm not. I can't love you like you want." She shook her head sadly. "You deserve so much more than thatyou deserve a woman who will worship the ground you walk on. I can't do that. I wish I could."   
  
She dropped her hand and turned to walk away. Suddenly, she found herself spun around and wrapped into a tight embrace. "I wish you could love me, Misao-san." Akira whispered into her hair. "But at the very least, I wish for your happiness. Who is this man that has made you so miserable?"   
  
She pulled away from him to look into his face. He was crying, and her fingers made quick work of his tears, wiping them off his face. "It's a long, silly story, Akira-san and I don't want to bore you with it."   
  
He caught her hand and kissed it gently. "I want to know everything. Tell me everything about this stupid, stupid man."   
  
She sighed. "Everything?"   
  
He nodded. "Everything."   
  
"Well, when I was five, my parents died"   


* * *

  
Aoshi rubbed his neck and then rolled his shoulders, trying to work the tension out of his muscles. He was sore, every inch of him hurt, but he also felt strangely exhilarated. It had been a very long time since he had picked up his kodachi and the okashira was more than a little chagrined to discover that he was out of shape. Probably not out of shape for a normal man, but as far as he was concerned, he had let himself go. But he loved the exercise; he found some peace in the rhythmic movements that had long ago been committed to memory.   
  
Sweat dripped into his eyes and stuck his shirt to his back, sliding cool and wet against him as he moved. His kodachi was a silvery blur in front of him, all of his concentration was centered on the razor sharp blade as it whirled in his hands. It was a welcome break from his normal routine of self-torture, one he had taken up a few weeks after the Battousai and his family had come and gone. When he came back to himself, he was more clear-headed and rational.   
  
As the weeks passed, he had been able to come to some conclusions, all of them concerning Misao. The most difficult thing to come to terms with was the idea of her as a woman, and of him loving her as a woman. But once he had wrapped his mind around that concept, it had become easier to grasp. She was no longer a child, she was a woman, a smart, observant woman who told bawdy jokes and could be as deadly as she was beautiful. She wasn't a fragile child, innocent and needing to be protected and shielded from the world. She knew what he was and what he had done and blamed him for none of it. After he had realized all of that, the most difficult thing for him was the idea that he had been completely blind to all of it for so long.   
  
He dropped the kodachi and mopped his forehead. He felt strangely light, disturbingly at ease. He feltready. The only thing that was missing was Misao. He sighed and headed towards the bathhouse, pausing to grab a towel that was hanging on the line to dry. It was still slightly damp, but he didn't really care. As he lowered himself into the steaming water, his mind wandered back to Misao, it always did. He wished she would come home. There was so much he had to tell her.   


End Part 4

  
Part 5 


	5. Part 5

Awakenings  
An Aoshi and Misao Story

* * *

  
Part 5

"And that brings us to today." Misao finished her life story with a slight flourish. Beside her, Akira said nothing and she began to worry. "Akira?" She was suddenly aware of everything she had told him. To her, the life she had lived was average, boring even, but to an ordinary person...it might be a bit much to take.   
  
"So what is the Battousai really like?" He finally asked. She released a breath she hadn't even been aware of holding and looked at him. He was giving her a frankly curious gaze.   
  
"His name is Kenshin, Himura Kenshin and he's really nice," she said, suddenly eager to explain. "He makes the BEST miso soup ever! Not too salty, not too weak..."   
  
"But...but I thought he was a crazy, cold blooded killer. I mean, when I was little, Hajime used to tell me that if I misbehaved, the Battousai would come and get me." Akira shook his head slightly.   
  
"Oh no, no! He's really very gentle." Misao waved her hands in negation. "He doesn't even kill any more. He carries around a reverse sword and helps people, although he's sort of retired from that. His wife had a baby a few years ago, so he's mostly been doing laundry."   
  
"A baby? Laundry? The most feared assassin of the Ishin?" Akira was dumbfounded.   
  
Misao laughed and nodded. "You'd have to see it to believe it. Red hair, a cross scar on his cheek and fussing over grass stains!" She leaned back on her elbows and chuckled.   
  
Seated next to her in the grass, Akira shook his head again, this time in amazement. "You know the strangest people."   
  
She laughed again and nodded. "I know. Ex-assassins, ninjas, spies, cross-dressing henchmen, mummies, giants, samurai potters, gangsters..." She ticked them off one by one on her fingers.   
  
"Misao-san..." Akira interrupted her, reaching out to capture her hand in his. His suddenly serious expression bothered her.   
  
She stopped talking and looked at their hands. "Akira..."   
  
"Don't worry, I'm not going to proclaim my undying love again." He said, shaking his head. Misao blushed and bit her lip.   
  
"What I wanted to ask was this: Misao, when are you finally going to stop running and face Aoshi?" His eyes held hers with an intense gaze. Her breath caught and she tugged her hand away.   
  
"I don't know..." She began, but he silenced her with an upraised hand.   
  
"Hear me out. It's quite obvious that you still love him," his voice was faintly bitter, "but you're afraid to find out exactly what his feelings are..."   
  
"I know what his feelings are! He tried to marry me off to some stranger! Don't you think that spoke volumes?" Misao angrily interjected.   
  
"I'm not so sure, and you certainly never asked him. Sometimes people who are conflicted try not to deal with their problems. Perhaps, for him, the easiest way to deal with his emotions towards you was to send you away, to make you unavailable to him."   
  
Misao shook her head, but Akira wasn't finished.   
  
"If I thought of that, you certainly did. So, you really don't know how he feels and it eats at you. You've been running away from him for nearly three years and you really don't feel much better about things than you did when you left. You should go back home and face him. His answer may not be what you wanted to hear...but at least you'll know."   
  
He reached towards her and held her face gently in his hands. "And if he is so stupid to reject you...I'll still be here, waiting for you."   
  
For the second time that day, Misao began to cry, and when Akira took her into his arms, she didn't resist.   


* * *

  
Harada-san was NOT happy. Not only had Misao rejected her son, but she had quit, as well. So now the harassed inkeeper was out a daughter-in-law AND a perfectly capable maid. She shook her head in irritation as she dusted the standing screen in the reception room. The young girl had left the day before, explaining that her family needed her, and Akira had been moping around the inn since then, annoying everyone in the building.   
  
"What a stupid girl." She muttered as she switched her attention to the floor.   
  
"No, she's not mother." Akira stood in the doorway, a book in his hand.   
  
His mother turned on him in a fury. "YES she is! How could she turn you down?! She would have had a roof over her head, plenty to eat, a consiterate husband...what more could she want? Silks? Pearls?"   
  
Akira shook his head and smiled sadly at his mother. "She wanted someone else, mother. What good are all those things if you're not with the one you love?" His mother geared up to give him a long lecture, but before she could begin, he left.   
  
Akira made his way down the hall to his room. Misao had been right, of course, and he couldn't fault her for that. He wanted her to be happy. He just wished she could be happy with him. With the door shut firmly behind him, he settled near his folded up futon with his book. Misao had highly reccomened the 'Tale of Genji'. And of course, if she liked it, then it had to be good.   


* * *

  
Kyoto, one month later   
Misao fidgited with the tie on her obi. Her only kimono was slightly tattered around the edges, but she was determined to return to the Aoiya with something like dignity. She looked at her reflection in the rain barrel and detected a smudge of dirt on her cheek, which she hastily scrubbed off with her sleeve. Her hair was unbraided, hanging long and fine down her back. It was much shorter than it had been, but still ran past her waist. She ran her fingers through it again and looked into the water. She definitely looked older. Did she look any wiser? She made a face at herself. Did it really matter?   
  
She was nervous and fearful and excited. Her fidgiting was only a cover, because when her hands were in motion, no one could tell they were shaking. She gave herself a final pep-talk and, taking a deep breath, she set off in the direction of the Aoiya.   


* * *

  
Aoshi skipped meditating at the temple, and as was his habit of late, went directly to the small training hall that sat discreetly behind the main building at the Aoiya. He was feeling antsy and he didn't know why, so he was eager to start his daily training to work out some of his tension. He picked up the kodachi that leaned against the far wall and began his routine, performing moves to the steady count in his mind.   
  
Misao left the temple, puzzled and a little worried. She had expected to find Aoshi there, but he wasn't. Even more confusing was the fact that the room where he meditated was dusty and not used, and the aging monk that looked after the place indicated that Aoshi had not been there in a few months. He offered no explanation for the okashira's absence; he merely shrugged and went back to raking the pristine white sand in the rock garden.   
  
She headed off in the direction of the Aoiya, the dark scenarios running through her mind. Maybe he was sick? Or dead? Maybe he had gone off somewhere never to return, and she would spend the rest of her life chasing after his phantom. She wrung her hands and walked faster, needing an answer.   
  
The Aoiya was quiet and empty, the lunch crowd having long departed. She hovered at the door for a while, looking around the spacious dining room and trying to get her bearings again. Her keen ears detected the sounds of voices and splashing coming from the kitchen. Omasu and Okon must be cleaning up after the lunch crowd, she mused, wondering if Shiro and Kuro were in there as well. She was tempted to go in there and see them, but she held back, she wanted to find Aoshi first.   
  
She crept quietly up the stairs to Aoshi's room and slid open the door. He wasn't there. She sighed and turned to leave when something caught her eye. A stack of books by the window looked awfully familiar. She walked over to them and picked up the first one. 'The Art of War'. Upon flipping open the book, she was surprised to discover that it was her book, the one she had read and dissected when she had taken over the post of Okashira after Aoshi's betrayal. It was much more worn and dog-eared than it had been when she left. The other books were hers as well, raising both her curiosity and her hope. Why did he have these? She found herself hoping that he had these to remember her by, in which case, he did miss her. She placed the book back onto the stack and left the room as quietly as she had entered it.   
  
By process of elimination, Misao soon found herself in front of the small training hall. And, when she looked through the half open door, her breath caught. He was there. Her eyes traced his movements with admiration. He was still gorgeous. She bit her lip and tried to think of how to approach him. Should she be coy? Angry? Indifferent? Coyly indifferent? Angrily coy? She felt like banging her head against the wall, but acting like a fool was not one of her options. So, she opted to lean against the door and watch him, responding to whatever he said or did.   
  
Aoshi moved into a basic kenjitsu defensive stance, all of his focus on his imaginary enemy. Suddenly, he felt the hairs on his neck stand up. Someone was watching. He drew back and tried to think of his options. No one from the Aoiya would sneak up on him, whoever was standing at the door was a stranger. Slowly, he turned around, his hand tense on his kodachi, ready for anything, except what he saw. His breath caught. She was there.   
  
She watched him tense and knew he sensed her there. Her fingers gouged into the doorframe behind her, she was so nervous. And oh so slowly, he turned and looked at her, his icy blue eyes widening slightly. Should she speak? Her tongue felt as though it were made of lead.   
  
He stared at her, eyes looking her up and down, seeing what three years had wrought. It might be his imagination, but she seemed taller. He blushed slightly when his eyes discovered that she had filled out on top quite nicely. Banishing any perverted thoughts, he continued his exploration. She was tan, and lean, her hair was worn down, rather than in her usual braid. But it was her eyes that surprised him the most. Gone was the wide-eyed look of innocence and trust. Her eyes spoke of experience, of growing older and living a life that wasn't always easy or fun. A tinge of sadness darkened them, tinting them a dark sapphire.   
  
While Aoshi studied her, Misao was busy trying to untangle her tongue. Finally, she managed to work free of her paralyzing nervousness and she spoke.   
  
Aoshi was trying to think of something to say when she spoke. "You're slower than I remember." She said softly. His eyes widened.   
  
Misao opened her mouth and instantly regretted it. A mantra of "BAKA!" ran through her mind. She blushed and looked down at her feet.   
  
He cleared his throat. "I've been out of practice." He replied.   
  
"Oh." Misao scuffed her foot against the floor.   
  
An uncomfortable silence reigned. Aoshi cleared his throat again and Misao seemed unusually fascinated with her feet. Finally, Aoshi broke the stalemate.   
  
"You look different," He offered, pausing thoughtfully before finishing the thought. "Older."   
  
She looked up at him and smiled slightly. "Well, you look the same. A little thinner, maybe."   
  
"Aa."   
  
"This is agonizing", she thought. "I need to say something, do something! Misao no baka!"   
  
She closed her eyes briefly and gathered her thoughts together. "I need to get this over with." She thought to herself. She opened her eyes and looked straight at him. Now or never.   
  
"I'm sorry." She said softly. It wasn't much, but it was a beginning.   
  
"You're sorry?" He seemed confused. "For what?"   
  
"For running off like I did. It was immature and thoughtless. As usual, I just plowed forward without giving any thought to what I was doing, and I'm sorry."   
  
He looked at her for a long moment. "Do you regret leaving?"   
  
She smiled. "No. Not at all. It was something I needed to do. I had a lot of thinking to get done and I didn't want any distractions."   
  
He nodded. "I understand. Now, I want to apologize to you. I'm sorry I tried to force you to marry. It waspurely selfish."   
  
Now she seemed surprised. "Selfish?" She echoed.   
  
He walked towards her and stopped a foot away, leveling her with an intense gaze. He had something to say and, despite his nervousness, he was going to say everything he had weighing on his mind.   
  
"You had come into my notice and it bothered me. I wanted to protect you from what I thought were my inappropriate affections." He raked a hand through his hair and stumbled over the next thought. "I was afraid that I would hurt you, that if I made my feelings known, you would, in your naivete, respond, but I thought that I could only bring you misery."   
  
Misao felt her knees wobble, only her hands clutching desperately at the doorjamb prevented her from falling. This was never what she expected. He was, in his own way, pouring his heart out to her. "So you would have ruined my life and yours because you were afraid you'd make me miserable?" Phrased in that way, his fears seemed ridiculous and he couldn't help a bitter laugh.   
  
"I suppose it was rather stupid of me." He said ruefully.   
  
"Yes, it was." Misao nodded effusively. She wasn't above a little torture. But she softened quickly. This resolution was too long in coming. She wanted to know just how much in his notice she was. "Socan I assume that you had feelings for me?" She asked carefully.   
  
He looked at her for a very long time, his eyes boring into hers. But finally, he answered. "Yes, I had...have feelings for you. It took your leaving me to make me realize it." He stopped and stepped a little closer to her, until he was only a few inches away. He reached out a callused hand and ran a finger down her cheek, reveling in the small touch. "Misao, I love you."   
  
She bit her lip to keep from sobbing out loud. Tears welled up in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks, Aoshi's rough fingers quickly wiping them away. She had waited so longso long just to hear those words. "You jerk," She sniffled. He stepped back, surprised.   
  
"Misao?"   
  
"Aoshi-no baka! Was that so hard? Four little words?"   
  
He smiled slightly. "That was the most difficult challenge I have ever faced."   
  
Misao was not about to be out done. "Well, I love you too, you idiot."   
  
Aoshi raised an eyebrow. "This is hardly the romantic scene I had in mind." He said, a slight hint of sarcasm in his voice, hiding the hope that she would allow herself to be baited.   
  
She took the bait. "Oh? What exactly did you have in mind?" She asked coyly. She released her death grip on the poor abused door frame and crossed her arms, in what she hoped was a seductive pose.   
  
He smiled and stepped forward, until she was pinned between the wall and him. One arm looped around her waist, while his other hand was busy with her silky hair. "Something more along these lines." He murmured before lowering his head to kiss her.   
  
She gasped, and he took advantage of her slightly opened mouth to taste her fully. Misao's eyes fluttered and closed, all her senses busy concentrating on Aoshi's lips and tongue.   
  
When he finally released her, she had to clutch his arms to maintain her balance, since her legs no longer seemed inclined to support her. "That wasamazing." She managed, smiling up at him.   
  
He smiled back and lightly stroked her cheek with his thumb. "Am I forgiven?" He asked.   
  
Misao's smile twisted slightly and she shook her head. "Nope. You'll have to do more than that to make it up to me." She said lightly.   
  
His eyes darkened. "I look forward to it." He said, his voice full of promise.   
  
Misao flushed red and bit her lip. She liked this new and improved Aoshi. They still had a lot to talk about, many many issues needed to be worked through, but for the moment "You can start making it up to me right now."   
  
The End   
  
Omake 


	6. Omake! Or An Epilogue of Sorts...

Awakenings  
An Aoshi and Misao Story  


* * *

1 Year Later   
  
Misao rifled through the envelopes that had been dropped off a few moments earlier. There were reports from active members of the Oniwabanshuu, a letter from Kaoru, bills anda plain cream colored envelope. She looked at the plain stationary curiously. Most of the letters were either addressed to Aoshi, or her and Aoshi jointly. But this letter bore only her name. She slit open the envelope and read the letter with increasing excitement.   
  
Dearest Misao-san,   
  
I hope this letter finds you happy and healthy. I was pleased to hear of your marriage, although I know I am many months late on my congratulations. I am glad to see that your Aoshi was not as stupid as we feared. I myself have happy news to share. A few months ago, I happened to meet a young woman who was an acquaintance of my sister-in-law. We fell in love and a few days ago, we were married. She truly loves me, Misao-san, and now I can see why you advised me to wait. Thank you. Hanae is a lovely, wonderful young woman. She has expressed some interest in meeting you. If you and your husband are ever in the area, please, come and see us. My mother has finally forgiven you.   
  
Sincerely,   
Harada Akira   
  
"Aoshiiiiiiii!!!!!!!" Misao rushed to find her husband, only slightly impeded by her very large belly. Huffing, she ran into the hallway and nearly knocked him over. "Anataguess what?!"   
  
"Misao?! Are you okay? Do you need me to get the doctor?" Aoshi was as near hysteria as he would ever get, his wife's pregnancy had been causing him great stress since the very beginning.   
  
"Baka!" Misao swatted him with the letter. "I'm fine! But listenyou remember Akira, right?"   
  
His eyes darkened. Of course he remembered Akira. Misao had told him everything. Harada Akira...the man who had dared to propose to his Misao. "Aa." He said tersely.   
  
"He got married! He finally found someone!" Misao exclaimed, waving around the letter in triumph.   
  
Aoshi relaxed slightly. "Good for him."   
  
"Damn right, good for him!" She rubbed her belly with a smile. "He's going to make her very happy."   
  
Aoshi raised an eyebrow. "Did he make you very happy?" He couldn't help the small tinge of jealousy in his voice.   
  
"Oh yes, Aoshi dear. Especially when he kissed me!" Misao teased.   
  
Aoshi's eyes narrowed. "You didn't tell me about that."   
  
She rolled her eyes. "Get a hold of yourself." She said, annoyance creeping into her voice. "He wasn't the one I married, now was he?" She looped her arms around his waist and got as close to him as her big belly would allow. Tilting her face upwards, she asked silently for a kiss.   
  
He hesitated for only a fraction of a second. How could he refuse her when she looked so cute like that?   
  
Their kissing was interrupted by a strong kick from the baby.   
  
"Ow." She muttered, rubbing her stomach. "I think he's practicing kenpo in there."   
  
Aoshi laughed and placed his hands over hers, marveling at the strength of the kicks. "I think you're right."   
  
When the baby seemed to tire of abusing his mother, Misao let out an audible sigh. "My back is killing me. I think I'll go soak in the tub for a while."   
  
Aoshi nodded. "I've got some paperwork to finish."   
  
"Why don't you come with me?" Misao asked coyly.   
  
Aoshi shook his head. "I really need to finish"   
  
"Oh come onyou can rub my back." She smiled sweetly.   
  
"WellI suppose I can finish up later"   
  
"That's the spirit!" Her eyes suddenly got a rather wicked twinkle.   
"Aoshi-anata"   
  
"Hmm?"   
  
She laughed and began walking quickly in the direction of the furo. "First one into the tub holds the title of the strongest!" 

The End


End file.
